


Repersonalization

by NeighborhoodCatGang



Series: We Love a Recovery [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Please don't ask how I arrived at this central ship, We love a recovery, i do not know, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeighborhoodCatGang/pseuds/NeighborhoodCatGang
Summary: Lit is trying to be a better person than the surly, murderous asshole he was when he arrived at the waystation. That's difficult enough, but when a minor god shows up wanting to chat (read: smooch) and his past starts trying to strangle him in his dreams, he's going to need a lot of help.
Relationships: Calypso/Leo Valdez, Lityerses/Zephyros, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Series: We Love a Recovery [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872733
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

Lityerses had been catching glimpses of the angel for weeks. He was lean and tan, with long black curls and red feathered wings. He always wore the same red shirt and khaki shorts which set off the warm undertones of his skin and feathers. First, Lit saw him sitting in the gryphon lofts, talking to Abelard and cradling the new baby. Then he caught a glimpse of russet feather in the garden. Flashes of burnt gold appeared around unexpected corners. Once he thought he saw him kiss Calypso on the cheek. But every time he made eye contact, the angel would vanish in a puff of warm, auburn colored breeze and slip away. It was driving Lit mad.

One evening as he settled down to read he felt the air shift behind him. Warmth caressed the back of his neck, startling him so badly he nearly attacked when a light voice spoke behind him.

“Hello.”

Lit whirled around, only to catch a glimpse of auburn swirling out of sight.

“Lityerses,” the voice chided, “so quick to attack. Have you forgotten your peaceful ways so soon?”

“Who are you? Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you, Lityerses.”

Lit whipped around again. Again, all he saw was the breeze whisking away. “Why won’t you look me in the face?” he demanded.

“I’ve been forbidden,” Sighed the voice, “My boss is trying to teach me a lesson.”

“I don’t appreciate being toyed with,” Lit snapped.

“I only want to talk. When you’re ready, you have my card.” The air behind him swirled again, this time zipping over his shoulder and brushing warmth against his cheek. A single coppery feather fell into his hand. As suddenly as he had felt the angel’s presence, Lit began to regret his absence.

Lit stared at the feather. His cheek tingled where the breeze had touched it. He placed the feather carefully on his desk and tried to read again, but the lines of his book slipped by beneath his eyes without touching his mind. The voice played over and over in his head ‘I’m here for you, Lityerses.’ For him? What did that mean? ‘My boss…’ who was the angel’s boss? What lesson? What could it possibly have to do with him?

Lit’s mother had been Demeter, goddess of the harvest. Her children were usually blessed with power over plants. In fact his half-sister, Meg, was incredibly powerful with a packet of seeds and sheer determination. But Lit didn’t have the same aptitude. His skill was with the sword. He couldn’t remember, exactly, but that had likely been the case before he died as well. Now that he had returned from death, his previous life was so distant and hazy that it may as well have never existed. In this life, though he didn’t have much divine power, he also didn’t suffer from ADHD or dyslexia - both very common among demigods - and he had never been plagued by demigod dreams.

That night, however, Lit’s dreams were wild, spinning, rushed things. He dreamed of swirling autumn leaves that became feathers and then arrows which exploded in his hand. He dreamed of a face, never quite clear, always glimpsed on the edge of his vision. He dreamed of sprinting, hand outstretched, through the dark, trying to catch the light, gentle voice as it flowed away from him. If he caught the voice - if he saw the angel’s face - he knew everything would make sense.

Lit jolted awake, gasping for air, to find Emmie sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand on his arm, the other brushing his hair off his forehead. She was holding his sword arm. He jerked away, fighting the rising panic, still trying to catch his breath.

“You were yelling.” She told him. He spat something incoherent and angry. She had trapped him in this corner, blocking him in. They took his sword. He had to fight. Emmie snapped three times in front of his face. Her strong archer’s fingers could produce a deafening noise. His thoughts scattered and he stared at her, wide-eyed, adrenaline and panic seeping out of him, leaving him exhausted and covered in cold sweat.

“Sorry for grabbing you,” Emmie said, “I forgot myself for a moment.”

“Thank you,” Lit slouched forward and rubbed his face.

She nodded sympathetically. “What happened?”

“Everything at once.”

She nodded again. “Calypso and I were going to tend the moonlace. Care to join us?”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” Lit liked Calypso. She was strong and practical and occasionally tempestuous. She gave and followed instructions well and was often content to work in silence alongside him. True, she had failed spectacularly at fighting when he tried to teach her - cursing and ranting in her ancient native tongue whenever a drill or technique went poorly - but she had also done more than even Josephine could to help him out of his destructive past and into a kinder future. After all, Calypso had spent millennia growing, cultivating and nurturing plants. She knew how to create and how to enjoy; things that Lit desperately needed to learn. And along with all that, she refused to take any shit from him.

Emmie, Calypso, and he worked quietly in the cool night air. The two of them wore jeans and grubby shirts while Lit hadn’t changed from his sweat-soaked pajamas. They divided tasks. Emmie, with strong but gentle hands, dug up moonlaces that needed splitting. Calypso, with the nimblest fingers, separated the new shoots. And Lit, in need of a mindless, tactile task, dug new holes where she directed and patted the soil back around the stems. The little flowers glowed happily in the moonlight, seeming to smile thanks up at him as he tucked them in. Calypso had explained to him that they didn’t do anything. They had no nutritional or medicinal value that she knew of. They just grew, glowed, and added beauty to the world. He had helped her and Leo assemble the box they were planted in when they needed a third set of hands. Lit liked caring for the little flowers, knowing they provided nothing in return. It was a hard thing to learn for a former mercenary, and he was strangely proud of himself for it.

“Hey Calypso,” he asked after a while, “who is that guy with the red wings?”

“Who?” She paused, looking puzzled.

“He’s been around the waystation for a few weeks. Curly black hair, really tan?” he looked up at her, wondering how she could have missed the gigantic feathery wings.

“I don’t know who you mean,” She turned to Emmie, “Do you?” The older woman shook her head.

“But I saw him kiss your cheek last week. I thought you knew him.”

“The only dark, curly-haired guy kissing my cheek is Leo. You know him,” She frowned at him. He let it drop.

As they walked back into the waystation Emmie sidled up to him.  
“The guy you mentioned. He reminds me of a god I met when I was a hunter.”

“You know who he is?”

“Who he might be. Zephyros, the god of the west wind, has red wings and dark hair. He’s a minor god, which would explain why the waystation hasn’t objected to him being here.”

“The west wind,” Lit mused, “what was he like?”

She thought for a second. “A little sad, but easy going. Kind of an airhead, if you’ll excuse the pun. I wonder why he’d be here.” Lit stayed quiet. Emmie’s description didn’t give him much to go by, and he didn’t want to mention that he had spoken to their guest, let alone that he had told Lit ‘I’m here for you...’

The waystation had a library, meticulously kept by a couple of aurae and one or two of the human residents. Lit managed to find his way to it through the shifting corridors and random, empty rooms of the building. There were still a few hours of night left. Nobody else was up. Even the aurae weren’t floating about. He shuffled through the catalog, looking for Zephyros, the west wind. There wasn’t a lot to be found. He read the story of Hyacinthus first, since it was closest on the shelves. Eros had bound Zephyros to his service in exchange for shelter from Apollo’s wrath. That might explain the boss comment. But if Eros wanted to punish Zephyros what did that have to do with him? He went back to the catalog and cross referenced Eros with what he had found of Zephyros. He made it through two or three stories before finding the story of Psyche, who risked everything and suffered the wrath of the gods to look upon her husband’s face. That fit. He had never managed to look squarely into the visitor’s face, either. But why would Zephyros be forbidden from showing his face to Lit? They weren’t married, were they? Lit didn’t think he had ever been married, let alone to a god. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing he’d do. But there again, the distance from his first life clouded everything from his eyes.

***

Leo found him that morning on the library floor, the scroll draped over his face, dead to the world.

“Hey, hombre. Rough night?” The guy’s alligator grin was unnerving. It was just his face, but still. Lit would have preferred to see Festus the bronze dragon looming over him.

“Jo said she wants you for a project today, after you do the vegetables for lunch.”

“...Kay,” Lit groaned. Leo offered him a hand up, which he took. “Do I have time to change?” He asked muzzily.

“Nah, it’s almost eleven. Emmie and Calypso said you should sleep since you helped them out last night, but it’s okay. You probably won’t get your clothes burned off.” He winked.

“Great,” Lit grumbled. His sweaty, grubby pajamas would just have to do for today.

Lit mindlessly washed, peeled, and chopped vegetables while his brain ran in circles. He ate lunch, then went to find Josephine. She and Leo were building something unfathomable to Lit’s exhausted mind. He hoped they didn’t need him to think.

“There he is!” Jo smiled, “and he brought food! Thank you, dear.” 

“Gimme a minute…” Leo mumbled from somewhere under the hulking contraption. 

Jo grabbed his pant leg and hauled him out, slapping a sandwich down on his chest, “You missed breakfast, Leo. No more minutes for you.” He scarfed the food down and wiggled back under again. Tapping and clanking noises serenaded Josephine as she ate a bit more slowly.

“You look awful,” She observed.

“I didn’t get much sleep.”

Jo nodded, “Emmie said you seemed troubled.” Lit didn’t want to say anything in front of Leo. He also wasn’t sure telling Emmie’s wife was a great idea when he hadn’t told Emmie in the first place.

“There’s a lot in my head, and not much room to hold it,” He tried for a smile. Judging by Jo’s face, it didn’t really work.

“Give yourself some credit,” she squeezed his hand briefly. “You’re doing really well here.”

Lit swallowed hard over the lump in his throat. “Thanks,” he choked out. Jo finished her sandwich and explained to Lit what she needed him to do. Blessedly, it did not involve brainpower. When she and Leo were satisfied with their progress, they sent him on his way to zombie through afternoon chores. He wolfed down the stew that was dinner and collapsed in his bed. Across the room, the feather gleamed on his desk. ‘When you’re ready,’ the visitor had said. Was he ready? He was bone tired, and no closer to understanding. Would he be able to sleep tonight? Would he dream? For a moment, Lit wished he could shut off his brain and return to letting his muscles think for him. Then he remembered the suffering that had caused. The lives he had taken. The contempt that had gripped him like iron. He wanted to shut off his brain and his muscles and just dissolve.

“Not tonight,” he told the feather, “I don’t think I can handle it.” A warm breeze brushed back his hair, and he fell asleep without another thought.

That night he dreamed of Abelard stalking him through a grove of giant moonlace. He wasn’t afraid. The gryphon had forgiven him after the baby hatched. But he ran anyways, toward the catnip where Heloise had been laid to rest. Abelard pounced, pinning him to the ground. His massive wings flared, but instead of tawny browns, they glowed in fiery reds. The giant beak opened and a gentle voice floated out.

“How long has it been, Lityerses, since someone held you close?” Lion paws became splayed hands on his chest. Eagle feathers turned to long, black curls. A single flash of golden eye met his and he awoke, clutching his blankets to his chest. How long had it been, he thought, since he had even deserved to be held closely? Centuries. Millennia. How could he even begin to earn such kindness again? Lit wondered vaguely if Zephyros was the one being punished, or if it was himself. Then he slipped back into sleep. This time he did not dream.

***

He woke the next morning in a mood so low it may as well have been pond scum. Someone would have to come fetch him if he didn’t show up for morning chores, but he winced at the thought of inflicting his presence on everyone. He steeled himself and chose the lesser of two evils, dragging himself through his morning routine and slouching out to the main hall.

“Clean out the gryphon lofts,” Emmie told him, “But come find me after. I want to talk to you.”

Lit nodded morosely, not meeting her eye. He was not looking forward to either task. A new breeding pair had moved in - Amara and Josephus - who didn’t quite trust him yet. The cub was always rowdy and underfoot, and now part of his mind was unreasonably suspicious that Abelard would turn into a minor god before his eyes. Emmie no doubt would want to talk about the visitor or worse - how he was doing. If he was especially unlucky, she’d team up with Josephine and they’d make him cry again. He had thought that all the training, fighting, and killing he had done had hardened him. But put him in front of two old women asking kindly if he was getting on alright and he would crack like a dropped egg.

First things first - the lofts. Getting close enough to clean the new pair’s loft meant a lot of shuffling sideways, pretending to be doing something else, and carefully ignoring Amara’s posturing. He made it out after only getting cuffed around the head once - thanks, Josephus - and headed toward Abelard and the baby with only slightly less trepidation. Just like every other time, the little cub scampered up to him, tripping over its own feet and trying to pounce on the broom. Lit always made sure to bow to Abelard before interacting with the baby. He knew he was relatively safe from death by razor-sharp beak, but he also wasn’t quick to forget how they had met, or why the big male had to raise his cub without a mother. Respect was the least of what he owed them. 

When he had all the stray molt, straw, dust, and bones gathered up, Lit sat on the edge of the loft, dangling his feet over the hall. Tiny paws slammed into his back, startling him. He began to rethink his seating choice. Abelard gave a warning rumble, but the baby was on a rampage with a bristle pulled from the broom. Lit turned in time to see the little gryphon careening over the edge of the loft. His mind went blank and white. His body took over, snatching the cub out of the air. He scrambled back from the edge and nearly collided with Abelard. The big gryphon cuffed him around the head - thanks buddy - then laid next to him and checked over the squirming cub in his arms. Under dad’s gentle snuffling and preening, the little one settled and promptly fell asleep in Lit’s lap. He sighed. He didn’t mind being stuck if it meant Abelard could have a few minutes’ respite from the tiny terror.

“Got any errands to run?” he asked, “Now’s your chance.” The gryphon only chirped quietly and tried to preen his hair. They were social creatures, living in pairs or in prides. Once Amara and Josephus hatched an egg they would probably raise the cubs together, all three parenting as a team. Lit wondered if that could possibly take the sting out of losing Heloise, or if it would just mean two cubs missing a parent instead of one. He felt the gentle tugging in his hair and the solid weight of the gryphon beside him. So much strength in that body. So much tenderness, too. A giant, full of contradictions.

“How did you ever forgive me?” he asked. Abelard’s piercing yellow eyes remained as inscrutable as ever. Then he blinked and looked at the cub cradled in Lit’s lap. Little downy feathers blended with cottony kitten fur. Oversized paws flexed and twitched from dream hunting. The sharp golden beak clicked and purred. The little idiot needed them. Their care, their wisdom, their protection. Abelard had more to live for than any pain or grudge. With just a look, he reminded Lit that he did, too. It was always going to take more than two to raise a cub. As long as Lit was here, the little one depended on him. He sniffled. Emmie and Jo would have to take a number. Making him cry seemed to be a waystation pastime.

Lit tried to find Emmie in all her usual haunts. No luck to be had.

“She’s in the practice range,” Calypso told him.

“Shit,” He swore.

“You just have to ask the waystation to let you back in,” she frowned up at him from her loom, “Quit being a baby.”

“I asked to be closed out of there for a reason,” He glowered back.

“You’re going to have to face it eventually. It’ll help if you’re not being a baby when you do,” She turned back to her weaving. He always felt awkward talking to the waystation with other people around, so he wandered until he found one of the random empty rooms.

“Waystation, please let me into the practice range,” He asked aloud. The room rumbled for about twenty seconds, and a corridor opened up to his left. “Uh. Thanks,” he said, self-consciously. Sure enough, he found Emmie, bow in hand, keeping her skills sharp. He waved. She shouldered her bow and made her way down to the ground.

“What kept you? I thought Amara finally lost her temper with you or something.”

“Just a cuff from Josephus, and the little one fell asleep in my lap.”

She smiled. “Good excuse. I’ll forgive your lateness for that.”

“What did you need me for?” He made an effort to meet her eyes.

“You haven’t been training, Lit. Calypso told me you had the waystation close you out of this room.” 

His resolve wavered and he dropped his gaze. “I don’t- it’s not-” he stared at his hands. They were so covered in scars he wasn’t sure what color they were supposed to be.

“Young man, you need to face yourself. You can’t be half a person.”

“I don’t want that part of me. Not anymore.”

“That part of you is valuable. Your knowledge and skill can keep us safe. We need you to be whole.” He set his jaw and met her eyes again. Then he spotted it. She wasn’t just wearing her quiver over her shoulder. She had his sword strapped across her back. His hands itched. He had never gone so long without holding it. His fingers curled as if the hilt already rested in their grasp.

“I don’t like who I become.”

“You’re more than him. We both know that.” She offered him the weapon. Dubiously, he took it. The weight of it felt comfortable and familiar in his hands. He frowned at it. The blade welcomed him, like an old friend or partner in crime. Lit squared his shoulders as if to shore up the weight of responsibility resting on them. He didn’t have to be the reaper. The reaper was dead. The reaper couldn’t care for moonlace, or raise a gryphon cub, or protect the waystation. But he could. He slung the sword over his back. Warmth zipped up his arms and something tousled his hair. 

Emmie smiled wider, “That’s our friend, isn’t it?” Lit couldn’t meet her eyes again. She laughed, and there was too much knowledge in it for comfort. Why did he have to blush now? He’d only spoken to the visitor once. They probably weren’t even married. ‘I’m here for you, Lityerses’ echoed in his head. He folded his arms against the discomfort.

“Your afternoon chore today will be to run every drill you can remember,” Emmie told him, still twinkling, “Until then, you're free to do whatever.” She clapped him on the shoulder and turned to leave.

“Do you really think I can do it?” The question escaped before he could think twice. He didn’t know if he was asking about the visitor or the reaper, but he needed to know.

Emmie held his gaze steadily, “I think you’re more than capable. But it isn’t my opinion that truly matters in this.” She left the rest hanging in the air between them. It wasn’t her opinion that mattered - it was his.

With time left before lunch, Lit decided he may as well face two challenges this day. Sword resting across his back, hands trembling only slightly, he made his way back to his room. The feather still sat on his desk, gleaming and coppery in the lamp light.

Lit held it gently. “I want to talk.” Immediately, he felt a presence behind him and the same sweet voice spoke.

“Hello, Lityerses.” It took all of his willpower not to turn and try to catch a glimpse.

“Are you Zephyros?”

“Thats me!” He sounded pleased, “Sounds like someones been doing his research.”

“If I close my eyes, can I turn around? I don’t like talking like this.”

“I think that might be allowed. I’m not forbidden from seeing, after all. In fact I’ve been watching you.”

“Why?” eyes shut, Lit crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk. It occurred to him that Zephyros was probably in his bed. He hoped he wouldn’t blush again.

“You’re interesting, Lityerses. You have quite a life here - and quite a task ahead of you.”

“You mean facing the reaper.”

Zephyros made a disapproving nose in the back of his throat. “You shouldn’t split yourself in pieces like that. It won’t help you heal.”

“I’m not broken.” Lit snapped. Zephyros was silent for so long Lit nearly opened his eyes.

“Have you thought about my question?” He asked so quietly it was nearly a whisper.

Lit frowned and uncrossed his arms. “Your- your question?” he didn’t remember there being one. 

This time the response really was a whisper, “How long?”

Lit’s eyes flew open. His bed was empty. A gust of air rustled the linens, and he was alone again. He cursed and thumped the desk. He was doing so well here. He had grown so much. Why did everyone keep insisting he was broken? Or incomplete? He didn’t need the reaper. He was better now. Thoroughly disgruntled, he headed to lunch.

That afternoon, Lit stood in the practice range, facing a line of straw dummies, and gripping his sword like an uncertain child with a security blanket. ‘Every drill you can remember’ Emmie had told him. They hadn’t faded. After he had come back from death, his muscles had remembered for him until his brain supplied names for the forms. He hadn’t put his sword away long enough to forget. But how could he bring them out now and be sure the reaper wouldn’t come back? What could he do differently? Put his mind into it this time. It would be safest to have an anchor, he thought. Something to keep him focused.

“Zephyros, are you watching?” He asked the empty room.

“How did you know?” asked a voice from the catwalk. 

Lit did his best to scowl up at him with his eyes shut, “I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” the voice purred, inches away from his ear. He managed not to jump or open his eyes, but only barely. His knuckles went white on his sword hilt.

“On the roof, in the garden, there is a bed of moonlace. Can you bring me one in a pot?”

“Hmmm… Such a small favor,” Zephyros mused, “and what are you offering in return?”

“I - what is a small favor worth to you?” He stammered.

“You’ll see. Or, perhaps not,” there was a teasing edge to the god’s words as he whisked away to the roof. Lit opened his eyes specifically to roll them at the joke. He heard a small, terra cotta noise behind him and turned to see a single moonlace in a pot on the floor. Perfect. Once enthroned on the head of the tallest dummy - meant to simulate a laestrygonian giant - the flower was visible from every point in the room. Lit got to work. Start with the basics. Let the body remember, but do not let it take over. Stay present, stay aware, remember the moonlace. Whenever he cut through a dummy, he switched seamlessly to the next, like enemies on a battlefield. Whenever he forgot himself, the moonlace flashed in his peripherals, jogging him back to the present. The tiny muscles in his hands and arms - always the first to go - ached and groaned in protest. His shirt and bandana became soaked through with sweat. His breath, though even and steady throughout, came more forcefully as the oxygen demands of his body increased. 

Finally, exhausted, soaked, and blessedly still himself, Lit landed the final blow, sheathed his sword, and sat down hard on the floor. He surveyed the remains of several straw dummies sliced to bits around him. Several more were still standing, but their rough exteriors bore massive slashes, spilling pale brown innards onto the floor. There were replacement dummies somewhere, but it seemed a waste to just discard the damaged ones. He’d have to ask Emmie about it at dinner. Maybe she’d show him how to repair them. Enough sitting for now. Lit knew if he went straight from hot to cold like this, he’d seize up like a rusty machine and injure himself doing something stupid like walking up stairs. Groaning, he dragged his exhausted body up and through several cooldowns until his pulse slowed and his joints felt like pudding.

After dinner, Emmie did show him how to salvage the dummies with minor damage and rebuild the ones beyond repair. As he suspected, the broken ones weren’t thrown out. Sacking exteriors would go to Calypso for repair or repurposing. Sturdy bases would be stored for new dummies in the future, and disgorged straw would be saved as nest material for the gryphons or bedding for Livia, the resident elephant. 

Numb with fatigue, Lit sloped back to his room. He disrobed, bathed himself, and flopped naked into bed. Then he remembered the kind of dreams he had lately and reluctantly got up to put on pants in case someone looked in on him again.

Face down in his pillow, he mumbled, “Zephyros.” A warm current of air wound lazily up his spine before resolving into a body, seated on the edge of his bed. The god didn’t speak.

“I thought about your question,” he mumbled into the pillow, “and the answer is too long, but not long enough yet.”

Zephyros sighed. “Lityerses, I’m a god of the wind. My brothers are Boreas, Notus, and Euros. So please accept my opinion as expert when I tell you that is complete nonsense.” Lit shrugged. He was too tired to come up with a better answer. A warm hand settled on his shoulder. For once, he didn’t want to shrug the contact off. 

Zephyros leaned close and whispered into his ear, “Sleep now. Tomorrow I’ll be expecting payment.” Lit didn’t even have time to dread what the payment would be before he slid into blissful, dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is anybody really surprised at the price of a small favor?

The next morning Lit awoke stiff and sore in that almost pleasurable way that follows a day of hard exertion. He shuffled, creaking and swearing, through the familiar set of stretches meant to help him recover. As his brain slowly caught up to his body, he remembered Zephyros’s parting comment. Dread crept into the back of his mind and got cozy there. What the hell had he been thinking, promising a favor to a god? He’d been so focused on the task at hand that what little sense he’d managed to cultivate had utterly deserted him. Promising favors to gods never ended well for mortals. Promising even so much as a pomegranate seed to a god was how you ended up the subject of an epic poem. That was not the life Lit was trying to live. He resisted the urge to flop back onto his bed and suffocate himself for his stupidity. There were chores to do and meals to eat and projects to peck at. 

He actually managed to put his impending doom out of his mind entirely until shortly before lunch, when he found himself alone in the library, cataloguing and shelving new acquisitions. The task only required him to comprehend and follow instructions, so a good portion of his brain was free to wander. Eventually it settled on the story of Psyche, gleefully pulling up every inconvenient detail for painstaking analysis.

‘My boss is trying to teach me a lesson…’

‘I’m not forbidden from seeing, after all…’

‘I’ll be expecting payment…’

“Zephyros,” Lit’s voice rasped through the silence of the library.

“Hello, Lityerses,” Zephyros sounded like he was somewhere in the shelves, which was just as well. Lit needed his eyes for his task.

“About that payment. What is it?”

“I didn’t intend to… collect until this evening. Do you really want to sit with the knowledge all day?”

Lit gulped. “Can I not just,” he paused, “do it now?”

“Oh I'm sure you could, but it wouldn't be nearly as fun.” Lit nearly dropped the scroll in his hands. What gods considered fun usually led to epic poetry for mortals.

“Don’t worry,” Zephyros’s breath on the back of his neck made Lit jump. “I’m sure it will be fun for you, too,” and then he was gone.

Lit failed miserably at not worrying. The story of Psyche and the trials Aphrodite had forced her through for betraying her promise spun round and round in his head. Snippets of the great epics popped up every now and then, adding variety to his agonizing. That evening, he sank into his bed, a completely different kind of exhaustion weighing him down. He wasn’t even startled by the gust of air that ruffled his clothes before resolving into a form sitting on the bed beside him. Dutifully, Lit closed his eyes and waited for the god to speak. A hand rested on his arm. His brain tried vaguely to be upset, but his body was too warm and relaxed to respond.

“Are you ready, Lityerses?” He nodded. Gods would have their payments, one way or the other. Best to get on with it.

“The price of a small favor,” Lit felt Zephyros lean close to whisper in his ear again, “is a kiss.”

His eyes nearly fluttered open in surprise. Instead he frowned. “Zephyros, I don’t appreciate being toyed with. You could have asked for that yesterday and saved me the worry.”

“But you look so fierce and brooding when you worry. Very attractive,” Zephyros sounded ever so slightly smug.

Lit gave up and sighed. “Come here.” He reached blindly, finding Zephyros’s shoulder first, then sliding his hand behind the god’s neck and pulling him down into a kiss. Zephyros’s lips were warm against his. The god’s kiss was like a spring breeze - gentle, undemanding, and heavy with promise. Something cracked in Lit’s chest and he found himself wrapping his arms around Zephyros, pulling him closer, asking wordlessly for more. Zephyros obliged. He melted into Lit’s embrace, sinking onto the mattress beside him, winding an arm around his waist, and slowly deepening their kiss. Eventually, Lit surfaced for air.

“Are we married?” The question sneaked out of his free-floating mind before he could reel it back in.

Zephyros snorted. “What made you say that?”

“Psyche,” Lit was too addled to be embarrassed yet, “she was married to Eros, but forbidden to look upon his face.”

“You were thorough,” Zephyros sounded impressed this time, “But no, we aren’t married.”

“Have I repaid your favor?”

“With interest. Sleep now, Lityerses. I promise not to torment you tomorrow.” Lit drifted off with the angel still in his arms.

Apparently, one night of dreamless sleep was all he would get for the week. That night he dreamed of dragging a bound, hooded figure down the Indianapolis sidewalk, through the cones of streetlamps like spotlights. The figure shook and fought, but on he walked. He dreaded looking under the hood. Would he find piercing golden eyes like before? Or the chiseled face of Commodus, his old employer? Or someone worse? On he walked. The figure quieted, then spoke.

“You have not faced me yet,” It was his own voice - his true voice - the way he heard himself speak, “your trials are not finished. Do you think you can survive?” The chains melted around the figure. One scarred hand closed around Lit’s throat. “I don’t,” hissed his voice. 

He awoke to an empty room. The clock said there were several more hours to go before morning, but he was unsure if he wanted to sleep again. The reaper might be waiting. ‘You have not faced me yet...’ But hadn’t he? Hadn’t he taken his mind and body back? Hadn’t he proven to himself that he could? Then why was he so reluctant to sleep now? Time to visit the moonlace.

As always the flowers glowed happily in their bed on the roof. Lit sat, facing the city, and leaned his back against the sturdy wood box. Discarded petals littered the ground, no longer glowing, but still soft and sweet-smelling. He fiddled with one. ‘You have not faced me yet...’ It had to be just a dream. He shouldn’t fear that part of himself.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Oh great. His not-husband was here, too. As if Lit hadn’t embarrassed himself badly enough already, it appeared Zephyros wasn’t done with him.

“All you said was ‘sleep now’, not ‘sleep through the night’” Lit snarked. The god’s frown was palpable, even without looking.

“What’s wrong, Lityerses?” He sat next to Lit. This time, Lit didn’t close his eyes. In his peripherals he saw the god’s long, tan legs languidly crossed, his hands resting in his lap. Zephyros’s shorts scrunched up as he sat, revealing a distinct lack of tan line on his upper thighs.

“It's just-” His treacherous throat tried to close on his words, “so much. The past few days-” he broke off, emotions fighting to be the first out of his tear ducts. Why on earth did he have to have a complete meltdown whenever anyone was kind to him? He’d have to spend more time with Calypso. For all that she knew how to nurture, she had some edge to her as well. She never made him cry.

“I’m sorry it had to be you, Lityerses. Eros is not a kind or gentle god. He does as he pleases and does not mind the mortals who get crushed under his thumb. I am bound to him now. I must do as he pleases as well, no matter how much I do mind.”

“But surely, Apollo would have forgiven you. Wasn’t that the whole point of his time here?”

“Unfortunately, It doesn’t matter. I belong to Eros forever. That was the deal.”

Lit found himself reaching for Zephyros’s hand. The god sounded just as battered as Lit felt. They sat in silence for a while, holding hands and watching the city.

Eventually Zephyros asked, “Do you want to go somewhere nice?”

“I think this is pretty nice,” Lit confessed.

“I know somewhere spectacular. I think you’d like it,” He persisted.

“Alright, where?” Lit asked. Then he dissolved. His mind gusted and swirled along the breeze, scattering, eddying, and whisking away from the waystation. The freedom of it was terrifying. He felt as though he might slip away, dispersed like the remains of Gaea or Ouranos. But it was exhilarating at the same time. Like he had never had so much concentrated life, or walked closer to permanent death. Seconds (or maybe eternities?) later, he coalesced back into a body. It felt like a straight jacket at first, then faded into a heavy blanket, and continued fading until he forgot the change entirely. He and Zephyros stood together on top of a dune overlooking a wide, dark beach.

“Where are we?”

“Indiana Dunes National Park. That,” Zephyros pointed to the water, “is Lake Michigan.” Lit surveyed the dunes rippling from pitch black troughs to silvery blue crests under the moonlight. He watched Lake Michigan lapping calmly at the shore, reflecting starlight on its glassy surface. A cool breeze rolled off the water. Zephyros was right. This place was spectacular. Lit squeezed the god’s hand, not trusting himself to speak.

“You know,” Zephyros said slyly, “I think carrying you here counts as a small favor.”

“What did I tell you about doing that,” Lit rejoined, but without real rancor.

“Do you know anything about flirting?” Zephyros pouted at him. Lit wasn’t about to admit that he didn’t. Instead he closed his eyes to the beauty of the beach and turned toward his companion. A gentle hand tilted his chin. This time he was prepared for the tenderness of Zephyros’s kiss. He knew he would crack again, want again. Zephyros released his hand and drew him close. Something brushed his shoulder and he realized the god had encircled him in those massive red wings. He leaned into the embrace, feeling the cracks spread and his knees begin to weaken. After some time, they parted. 

Again, a question escaped before Lit could get himself together, “Is this the will of Eros?”

“I hope every kiss with you isn’t going to turn into a pop quiz.”

“Please, Zephyros.” He dreaded the answer. Worse, he dreaded having to decide whether being a chip in some god’s sick game would mean cutting Zephyros off.

Zephyros squeezed him gently, then spun him around. “Open your eyes. This is not the will of Eros. This is no trial or test. I may be bound to service, but I am not a puppet controlled by Eros’s strings. This is simply a gift to you to enjoy with me.”

“Do you promise?”

“On Styx, Lityerses,” Zephyros kissed his ear. “Come walk with me.” The god offered his hand. They wandered around the beach together, enjoying the cool sand beneath their feet and the odd little dune critters that scrambled about before them. Zephyros’s hand was warm in his, as gentle and undemanding as his kiss had been. Lit definitely wanted another of those. What had he said about flirting?

“So holding hands is nice and all,” he began, “but wouldn’t it be nicer to hold lips?” Oh Gods of Olympus what was that? Was it too late to ask Gaea to swallow him whole? Yeah, she was gone. Maybe he could drown himself before Zephyros noticed. He sneaked a glance in his periphery. Zephyros had his face buried in his free hand.

“Maybe you were right about just asking,” He groaned, “but it’s a start, I guess. Do you promise no questions after this one?”

“They just sneak out!” Lit almost wailed, “you short out my brain and I can't help it!”

“I’ll consider that a testament to my skill, then” He slipped behind Lit, warm hands sliding up Lit’s arms and across his chest. That was all it took to melt Lit completely. He was putty in Zephyros’s hands even before the god began to kiss his neck. Styx, this was even better than what they had done before. Instead of the slow crumbling in his chest that Lit was expecting, he felt as though someone had flipped a switch. Desire crashed over him. His mind, overruled by the will of his body, shut off completely. His skin hummed and burned. He became nothing but a bundle of wants with trembling legs. The pilot light his brain had left on waited impassively for disgust and contempt at his own weakness to come and ruin the fun, but as Zephyros’s hands slid over his body again, and his spine tingled with pleasure, he realized that wasn’t going to happen. He finally allowed himself to feel good.

“Close your eyes,” Zephyros whispered. Even the god’s breath felt good against his skin. Lit complied. Strong hands led him, stumbling and giddy, down the side of the dune onto what felt like a tuft of tall grass. Those hands slid beneath his shirt and lifted it over his head, grazing his skin as they did. Then, Zephyros pressed him back into the bed of grass and pressed his lips to Lit’s. He settled slowly on top of Lit, warm skin warding him against the chill breeze, and making him ache and groan and arch up to press closer. The god moved with maddening slowness, but inexorable purpose. His teeth closed around Lit’s lower lip and he sucked gently, eliciting another groan. Lit’s hand found the nape of his neck to draw him closer and cease his teasing. He felt a smile against his skin as he did.

“I can feel you smirking at me.” He grumbled.

“Oh, is that what you can feel?” Zephyros purred, “I’ll have to try harder.” One leisurely roll of his hips and Lit slid back into wordless gasping, rocking and arching beneath him. Zephyros did not return his lips to Lit’s. Instead he wound a hand into Lit’s hair and pulled, exposing his throat. He planted a trail of lingering kisses from jaw to collarbone, then meandered across one shoulder, pulling another groan from Lit’s chest.

“Zephyros.”

“Please don’t ask a question.”

“We can’t stay. It’s nearly morning.”

“I wish you had asked a question.” He released Lit’s hair, but resumed his slow exploration of the planes and curves of his chest. “Are you sure they can’t spare you for half a day?” He murmured into Lit’s neck.

“Please. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving,” Lit kept his eyes shut, but he couldn’t stop his brows from knitting. He clenched his jaw, and felt his shoulders pick up tension as anxiety peaked through his pleasure.

Zephyros relented, “alright, I’ll take you back. You can stop frowning at me now.” He ran a soothing hand through Lit’s hair and planted one last kiss on his cheek before climbing off and handing back his crumpled shirt. Disheveled and disappointed, they whisked back to the waystation with time left for Lit to shower and change before breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am choosing to assume here that Lit is over 20. We are not having an immortal divinity grind on a teenager in broad moonlight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The peeps are visiting! They have their own business that doesn't concern Lit, but usually have time to make new friends. Or listen to some dude have a crisis in the bathroom, as the case may be.

The waystation had visitors that day. Lit recognized Piper McClean, and gathered that the redhead and the burly asian guy were Hazel and Frank. The three of them fell on Leo and engulfed him in a group hug, exclaiming how long it had been and how scrawny he still was.

“Alright, alright, calm down! There’s still plenty of me to go around!” Leo laughed. He began introductions with Emmie and Jo, then Calypso. Lit hurriedly stuffed a biscuit in his mouth and tried to escape before they got to him, but Piper was too sharp. When he got to the doorway she was already standing in it, arms folded, eyes narrowed.

“I remember you.”

He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed even further, “For which part?” He remembered their encounter all too clearly. It wasn’t pretty.

“All of it,” he said, truthfully. She opened her mouth to retort, but Leo materialized between them, hands up in a placating gesture.

“Easy, Pipes. Lit’s pretty okay these days. Rumor has it he even has a boyfriend.”

Lit’s glare was ruined by the flush creeping up his neck and face, “and who exactly told you that?”

Calypso popped up at his elbow, “Josephine! She said Emmie said you had a secret visitor.”

Piper didn’t look convinced. “He’s dangerous.”

Leo flashed that unnerving grin over his shoulder, “yeah, but it’s like, super easy to make him cry.”

Calypso frowned, “he never cried at me?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re mean to him.”

Lit threw up his hands in exasperation “I just want to get to the library! Can I please go?!”

Piper raised an eyebrow like she hadn’t expected him to say ‘please’, but she stepped aside. Lit practically fled down the hall with the sounds of Leo and Calypso’s banter echoing after him. Damn Emmie and Jo and their all-knowing grandmother powers. He supposed it was inevitable that everyone would find out about Zephyros. What had he been hoping for? That they could stay a secret forever? He supposed not, but he would have liked a little more time. Or choice in the matter. He plopped down on the library floor and hid his face in his hands.

“They’re a bit much, aren’t they?” rumbled a voice from down the aisle. It was the asian dude with the military haircut. He moved with surprising stealth for his size. Lit hadn’t even heard him approach.

He held out a hand to help Lit up, “I’m Frank.”

“Lit,” He accepted the outstretched hand and hauled himself to his feet.

“Why is Piper so upset about you?” Frank asked. His face was concerned but not hostile, or even suspicious.

“I, uh, kinda tried to kill her and Leo and Jason.”

Franks brow crinkled, “what, that’s it?”

“I mean it is pretty serious,” Lit didn’t understand Frank’s reaction in the slightest.

“Leo tried to kill us all at least once. Percy nearly killed Jason several times. Even I seriously considered an attempt on Leo’s life once or twice. People trying to kill us was just how we lived for a while.”

Lit shrugged. There were enough people in the waystation that he had tried to kill at one point or another to start a support group. He supposed Piper would just have to get in line.

“She’ll come around.”

“Thanks, Frank.” The big guy was growing on him already. He had a solid, reassuring presence. Like a teddy bear but with more muscles. The redhead, Hazel, poked her face around the shelf and called to Frank, “come get your stuff! I’m not carrying it to our room for you!” then she spotted Lit behind Frank’s bulk, “oh, hey! I’m Hazel, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” he managed, completely wrong-footed by her friendliness after Piper’s frosty welcome.

“Come on, Frank, let the man read in peace.” The two of them left Lit staring blankly at the shelf in front of him, trying to make sense of the group of friends that had fallen on the waystation.

His task that afternoon was cleaning the bathrooms, but he swapped with another resident who had been assigned to the gryphon lofts but was terrified of heights. Unfortunately for Lit, Amara had laid her egg and she and Josephus were loath to leave their nest. That meant everything that needed to be cleaned was much closer to the nervous new parents than before. It took him nearly an hour of lying on the floor, pretending to relax, and then scooting in under the guise of a stretch or change of position to get them tidied up. For once he managed to escape without getting smacked around by Josephus. Small miracles. As always he bowed to Abelard before beginning the intricate game of keep-away that was cleaning while the baby was awake. About halfway through, Lit had an idea.

“Hey, big guy,” he addressed Abelard, “do you mind if a friend comes to hang out with us?”

“I don’t think he does,” came the familiar light voice behind him. Lit was getting good at not jumping when that happened. This time he actually smiled.

“Want to do me a small favor?”

Zephyros played with the gryphon cub while Lit finished sweeping, scrubbing, and rearranging. His breezy laughter and ridiculous baby talk, answered by the cub’s play growls and excited chirps, all interspersed with Abelard’s peaceful, rumbling snores were easily the best soundtrack Lit had ever worked to. When he was finished, and the little gryphon was snoozing peacefully under dad’s wing, Lit eased himself to the edge of the loft and sat dangling his feet again. There was a rustling sound to his right, and Zephyros sat beside him, close enough that their legs brushed as they swung over the main hall.

“Not trying to be a secret, then?” Lit asked.

“Hemithea spotted me. She’s always been sharp,” Zephyros sounded rueful, “She said if I was going to hang around, I had better help out, too.”

“Sounds like Emmie, alright,” Lit agreed. Then he remembered what Calypso had said. “Oh gods, was Josephine there?”

“It’s strange to hear that oath in person. And yes, she and Hemithea are quite a team.”

Lit groaned, flopped onto his back, and covered his face with his hands again. The whole waystation was bound to know by now that Lit had a secret boyfriend who was the god of the west wind. Even though they weren’t really boyfriends. Well, he supposed they had done some pretty boyfriendy things. And he probably wanted Zephyros to do more boyfriend things with him. But did it have to be so public? So out of his control? 

Zephyros squeezed his thigh “Look, more visitors!” Lit uncovered his face, but took his time appreciating the muscles in the god’s shoulders and back before sitting up. In the hall below, two dark-haired boys and two blondes - a girl and a boy - were just being led in by Jo.

“Oh bluster, that's Nico DiAngelo. He probably won’t be happy to see me.”

“You didn’t try to kill him did you?”

“Eros did, and I carried him there.”

“Annabeth!” Shrieked a girl’s voice below them. Piper threw herself into the blonde girl’s arms and the hall descended into a chaos of greeting, hugging, laughing, and handshaking between Piper, Annabeth, Hazel, Frank, Leo, and the taller dark haired boy. Nico hung back slightly until Hazel grabbed his arm and pulled him into a tight hug. The blond boy and Calypso stood side-by-side watching the chatter, similar smiles on their faces that said they were happy their friends were happy, but they knew they weren’t part of the group. 

Lit found himself reaching for Zephyros’s hand again, “They’ll get to us eventually. Let’s finish this up.” 

All the organic matter, including shed feathers, bones, nest material, and droppings, went into Josephine’s complex-bordering-on-arcane composting system. As a child of Hekate, arcane probably came naturally to her. It was not a task for the faint of heart. Whoever did the composting could reasonably be expected to be left alone - at least until they showered. Whoever did the composting was also expected to shower before dinner.

“Two showers in one day, Lityerses,” Zephyros teased, “careful or someone might think you're spoiled.”

“Do you watch me everywhere?” Lit wasn’t expecting a serious answer, but he got one.

“Almost everywhere.”

He staggered. “Styx, that is- that’s-” he fumbled for an adequate word, “Zephyros that’s creepy.” He stopped in his tracks and nearly looked the god in the eye before remembering what would happen, “Don’t do that again.”

“I’m sorry, Lityerses.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Lit stalked away, feeling thoroughly discomfited. As he stood under the spray, mechanically going through the motions of cleaning himself, he tried to take inventory of his emotions - something Josephine had been teaching him. Embarrassment was up there, along with powerlessness, and a certain amount of anger. The unnerving jitters of having been watched without knowing scuttled down his spine. What the Hades had Zephyros been thinking? ‘Ooh a fun mortal toy, no need to respect it at all?’ And why did this have to be everyone else’s business, too? Wasn’t he allowed to decide? An annoyingly sly little thought slid into the back of his mind while he brooded. Did everyone knowing change what he really wanted? Would he forego his own desires just because other people would see?

“Shut up,” he told that thought aloud, “let me be mad about it.”

“Okay, hombre, if you say so.” Lit jumped so badly he nearly slipped. He hadn’t noticed Leo getting into the next stall over.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “wasn’t talking to you.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Padre Leo is holding confession,” Leo seemed in a good mood after spending time with his friends, “Wanna tell me about it?”

Lit didn’t, particularly, but there was a good chance Leo already knew anyways. He spent a lot of time with Jo, who didn’t look like a gossip, but apparently was a champion at it.

“How much did Jo tell you about my supposed secret boyfriend?”

“That he’s probably a minor god and that I should definitely not mention it to you”

“Oh great. Does everyone know?”

“Wait, are you saying it’s for real?” Lit’s shower curtain yanked back, revealing the scrawny latino sporting the wickedest grin Lit had ever seen and nothing else.

Lit folded his arms and raised his eyebrows “Get back in your own stall, padre”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Do you really want to play naked chicken over this?”

“Do you really want to explain to your secret boyfriend what’s about to happen here?”

“Wait who has a secret boyfriend?” Asked a new voice at the door. Lit threw his hands up and swore. The tall dark-haired visitor appeared behind Leo.

“Woah, someone eats his wheaties. Leo, you should take a page out of his book.”

“Shut up, Percy. Help me interrogate him.”

Percy turned sea green eyes onto Lit and said simply, “wanna talk about it?”

Mercifully, Lit managed not to cry. The three of them sat in their towels on a bench, steam curling around the bathroom and softening the outlines of the two beside him. He told them about his visitor, and why he had come, and his own misgivings about the whole thing.

“So no, I don’t technically have a secret boyfriend. Just a secret pain in my ass that might stick around.”

Percy whistled. “That’s pretty complicated.”

“Not really,” Leo countered, “You don’t ditch a whole project just because some parts are messed up. You keep working until you have the right machine. And don’t tell Calypso I put it like that.”

“So the parts you don’t like are Eros and everyone knowing before you’re ready,” Percy mused. Lit nodded silently, having talked enough for the next year at least.

“Well there’s not much we can do about Eros,” Leo said flatly.

“But we could ask Piper if she can help with the rumors. Or with the being ready, come to think of it. This is Aphrodite territory for sure,” Percy suggested.

“Piper doesn’t like Lit. He tried to kill us once and she’s still mad about it.”

“I don’t want more people involved anyways. I want him to stay and Emmie forbade him from hiding anymore so people are going to start noticing. I just need to make a decision.” Lit looked up to find Percy and Leo staring at him as if he was an idiot.

“What?” He asked defensively.

“Sounds like you’ve made your decision already,” Percy slapped him on the back and stood, heading for his clean clothes. Leo did the same, shooting his alligator grin and a “Go get ‘em, Tiger” over his shoulder. It seemed that annoying little thought had its answer.

To his surprise, Lit found Zephyros waiting in his room, back to the door, wings folded in tightly.

“Hello, Zephyros.”

“Hello, Lityerses.”

“You didn’t have to wait for me. And you don't have to use my whole name every time.”

The god shrugged. “Hemithea didn’t assign me a room. I didn’t want to be anywhere else.” Lit deposited his laundry in the basket under his bed, then sat facing Zephyros, who turned to face away again.

“I’m sorry for watching you. I didn’t- I forgot that mortals-” He trailed off.

“I know. I forgot that gods,” Lit said as gently as he could. Zephyros unfurled slightly. Lit reached to smooth the feathers at the base of his wings. They were silky and soft, but couldn’t mask the knots of tension beneath. “Stay with me.” Lit was offering more than just a room for the night. He hoped he had put enough into those words that Zephyros would understand. The god turned. Like every time before, Lit caught the barest glimpse of shining golden eyes before Zephyros vanished into the wind. He hung his head. It seemed he didn’t get a choice after all. Then a familiar warm breeze whispered across his skin, curling around his bare shoulders and condensing into the lean, tanned arms of the west wind.

“It seems I’m not done making mistakes,” He murmured, “I hope you’re not done forgiving me.”

“No,” Lit leaned into the embrace, weak with relief, “I suppose I’m not.” A knock sounded at the door, followed by Leo’s voice. 

Lit could hear the devilish grin in his words as he called, “Put some clothes on and grab your secret boyfriend! It’s almost dinner time!” 

He took a deep, steadying breath and squeezed Zephyros’s hand. “Join me for dinner?”

Afterward, Lit lay in bed savoring the warm feeling in his chest. The food had been great, the stories even better. He had sat with Zephyros, squished together in the middle of the long bench, enjoying each other’s presence in the midst of everyone else’s fun. After dinner, Zephyros had wandered off with Nico and his boyfriend Will - the blond boy who had arrived with Percy and Annabeth - so Lit was alone for now. Soon enough, the good food and his lack of sleep caught up to him and he drifted off.

The reaper was waiting for him. He stalked Lit through an abandoned waystation, littered with feathers in soft, tawny browns that shifted and changed to bright, coppery reds beneath his feet. Lit tried to run, only to slip on the feathers and go crashing to the ground. Waves of contempt like frigid air radiated from his pursuer as he tried to scramble away. In an instant the reaper was upon him. One viselike hand clamped on his sword arm. The other reached up, past his throat, to cover his eyes. Lit jolted awake, terrified to still feel hands on his bicep and face.

“Be still, Lityerses. It’s me. I didn't know how else to wake you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook free of Zephyros’s grasp, “Turn. Let me see.” His heart was racing and his skin was cold. He didn’t wait for the affirmative before opening his eyes. For a moment his vision was filled with sleek auburn feathers. Zephyros shifted slightly and appeared from behind his own wings, face turned obligingly away.

“Dreaming again?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Lit rubbed his face with a shaking hand.

“Can you close your eyes again?”

“Yeah,” The god’s touch was as gentle as the breeze as he guided Lit back down onto the bed, wrapping him in a warm embrace and holding him close.

“You’re safe here.” He whispered. Lit buried his face in Zephyros’s shoulder and let himself be held. Soon he was drifting again, but this time there were no dreams to disturb him.

Lit awoke gently some time later, one arm thrown languidly across Zehyros’s chest, head still pillowed on the god’s shoulder. Information tricked into his sleep-fogged brain piece by piece. It was around 1 AM. Zephyros was still with him. In his bed. Snuggling him. He hardly dared to breathe lest the spell be broken.

As if reading his thoughts Zephyros murmured, “Yes, I’m still here.” and brushed a feather light kiss onto Lit’s forehead. His skin tingled where the god’s lips had touched. Absently, Zephyros ran a hand up Lit’s outstretched arm. He seemed content to just lie there and hold Lit close, but the electricity in Lit’s skin was spreading. He fought to keep his breathing steady as memories of the previous morning rose unbidden to his mind. The lithe grace of Zephyros’s body as he climbed on top. The hot pressure of his hips rolling into Lit’s. Strong fingers tangling in his hair. Heat radiated through him. Unable to stand the peaceful stillness anymore, he grabbed a handful of Zephyros’s shirt and pulled. A startled laugh barely escaped the god’s lips before they met Lit’s. Bliss. Elysium. Their legs tangled together as Zephyros shifted closer, pressing the length of his body into Lit and deepening their kiss. He slid effortlessly on top again, picking up where Lit had cut him off at the beach. The way he moved drove Lit mad. Too soon, Zephyros withdrew. Lit tried to follow, to steal another kiss, only to find himself once again controlled by the god’s hand in his hair. He gasped as Zephyros’s teeth grazed his collarbone.

“Lityerses, I think you’re overdressed,” He purred, sliding a hand beneath Lit’s shirt, “we’ll have to fix this.”

“Please don't use my whole name in bed.”

“What should I use then?” Zephyros’s hand was wandering, sinking lower over Lit’s stomach, long fingers sliding deftly under his waistband. A groan escaped Lit’s throat and he forgot the question entirely until Zephyros said teasingly

“That’s not a name, now is it?”

“Just Lit,” He gritted, breathless with desire, still clinging to Zephyros’s shirt.

“Alright, Lit.” he shivered at the way the god’s mouth curled around his name. “Off with your shirt.” He obeyed.

Before Zephyros could lower himself back over him, Lit reached up blindly, again finding shoulders first, then sliding his hands up as Zephyros leaned closer, and cradling the god’s face. He let his palms rest on the sharp angle of his jaw, brushed his thumb over soft, bowed lips, traced his fingers along elegant cheekbones and a straight, proud nose, then up past the brow - sharp like his jaw - and into soft, pliant curls.

Zephyros made a small noise of pleasure in his throat. “Do you see me now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lit breathed, “And you’re perfect.” And then they were kissing again, lost in the sensations of each other’s lips and hands and skin pressed to skin. When eventually Zephyros’s mouth slipped to the side and began another leisurely exploration of his shoulders and chest, Lit was half tempted to tighten his hands in those luxurious curls, control the god the way he had done Lit, and reclaim those lips with his own. Instead he lifted his hands, giving wordless permission to Zephyros’s every move, caress, bite, and lingering kiss. He knew it would never be enough - that these small pleasures could never match the heat of their bodies moving together. Until Zephyros’s lips came to rest below his navel, so tantalizingly close. Lit’s back tightened, arching his spine as a groan of frustration rumbled in his chest at the pause.

“Lit-”

“Please,” he gasped, already reaching for his drawstring.

Fully undressed and completely blind before an ancient divinity, Lit knew he should feel afraid, or humbled, but all he felt was desire, and there was no room in his chest for anything else. And then Zephyros returned his mouth to Lit’s skin, and all thought left him. He arched again, engulfed by the soft heat of the god’s mouth.

“Oh gods” he swore involuntarily.

“Just the one.” Zephyros smirked before resuming his attentions. Lit wound a hand into the god’s hair, grip tightening as his pleasure mounted. He couldn’t stay still. His body demanded he move. He thrust into Zephyros’s mouth as the tension within him crested and broke. Another groan - nearly a growl - ripped from his chest as he came, and he collapsed back onto his pillow, all strength gone. He knew vaguely that he should reciprocate, and he certainly wanted to, but exhaustion was rapidly claiming him again, and Zephyros lay beside him as warm and tranquil as before.

“Sleep now, Lityerses. And try not to forget that you owe me,” he whispered in Lit’s ear.

“What did I tell you about doing that?” Lit mumbled before sleep dragged him under.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its the "which of the seven heroes is the cutest" chapter, except Lit isn't interested and Zephyros has inscrutable criteria. Calypso does have all the best ideas, tho.

The next day was a rest day. No morning or afternoon chores; the residents were free to pursue whatever projects they chose, or just spend the day relaxing and hanging out. Lit chose the latter.

“He’s pretty cute isn’t he?” Calypso was sitting with him in the gryphon lofts, idly watching Will sort and catalog infirmary supplies on the dining table.

“A bit young for me, but I guess he’s alright.” In truth, Lit didn’t know how old he was. His best guess was somewhere mid-twenties, but unlike Hazel he couldn’t remember his life before the underworld.

“I agree with Calypso,” Zephyros settled on Lit’s other side, sliding an arm around his waist and tucking both him and Calypso under one wing.

“I suppose age matters less when you're thousands of years old,” Lit teased them.

Calypso frowned, “Aren’t you also thousands of years old?”

“I was dead for most of it. I don’t think that counts.”

“Does it count if I was completely disconnected from the world on an island with little concept of the passage of time?”

It was Lit’s turn to frown, “Good point.”

“I guess that means I’m the authority,” Zephyros concluded, “And I say he’s cute. Just look at them!” Nico had wandered over and stretched out on a bench next to Will. He tossed a roll of bandages at Will’s head and smiled when the blond plucked it out of the air without even looking. Will made a note, added the roll to the stack, and absently brushed Nico’s hair off his forehead as he considered the small pile of trauma shears.

“Yeah, that’s cute,” Lit and Calypso said in unison.

“Do you think Leo is cute?” She cocked her head to look at the two men, mischief in her almond eyes.

“In a pet lizard kind of way, sure,” Lit glanced down at her, grinning as he said it. Zephyros snorted and tossed his head back.

Calypso laughed, too. “You should have seen him on Ogygia. Still scrawny, but much more intense,” She smiled fondly. “a lot more intriguing than Odysseus or Percy.”

“You met Percy on Ogygia?”

“Oh sure,” Zephyros cut in, “The four winds carried him there.” He shot an apologetic look at Calypso, “Eros was one of the more vocal agitators for sending heroes to Ogygia so I was usually involved in getting them to the island.”

“Your boss is a dick,” She said mildly.

“Tell me about it,” grumbled Lit.

“Hmm what about Frank Zhang?” Zephyros watched as the praetor turned into a gorilla to lift one of Josephine’s contraptions, “He’s had an extraordinary journey.”

“I’ll pass. He reminds me of a teddy bear that could beat someone up,” Calypso ruled. This time Lit laughed. He had had the same thought at least once before.

“Hazel though,” she continued, “She’s lovely. Excellent bone structure.” The other praetor was bent over a circuit board with Leo, helping him integrate some kind of crystal into it.

“She’s definitely striking.” Lit liked the way her cinnamon colored hair curled over the edges of the bandana tying it back - as if it refused to be contained. “Tough, too. She’s taken down some serious monsters.”

“And she’s a revenant, like you,” Zephyros nudged him with one shoulder.

“No, she’s a way cooler revenant than Lit. She has magic.”

“I agree with Calypso,” Lit echoed his boyfriend’s earlier words.

“Maybe I should be the authority, since I have all the best ideas.”

“Opinions on Percy Jackson, then?” Zephyros asked airily.

“Bah! You know I can't say. The history is too weird,” She darkened, and Lit began to get nervous about sitting between the two of them, even though he knew it was all in fun.

“Sorry, Calypso,” The god’s voice was sweet and teasing, “I had to keep my position intact. Personally, I’m intrigued that Percy Jackson turned down immortality twice.”

“Twice?” Lit was surprised. He knew the Olympians would only offer once.

“Technically he turned it down when he left Ogygia, where he wouldn’t have aged or fallen in battle,” Zephyros explained, “Then again when he saved Olympus from the titans’ attack.”

Calypso softened slightly, “He’s like that. He wouldn’t leave his friends behind.”

“He is incredibly kind,” The other two stared at Lit. He hadn’t told Zephyros about their conversation in the bathroom, but he figured Leo might have mentioned it to Calypso. Evidently not. He explained, skipping over the naked chicken comment and Leo’s response to get to the part where Percy had heard him out and then offered to help him even though they had barely met. Zephyros hummed approval, but Calypso narrowed her eyes.

“You’re leaving something out.”

“Nothing important, I promise,” He tried not to squirm under her scrutiny.

“Leo is never that serious for that long. What did he say that you aren’t telling me?”

Lit sighed and explained about ‘Padre Leo’ pulling back his shower curtain.

“Are you kidding me?” she yelped. Zephyros had a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Lit held up a hand.

“It gets worse,” He related the naked chicken comment. His boyfriend burst into real laughter beside him, tossing his head back again and shaking with mirth. “...and then he said ‘do you really want to explain to your secret boyfriend what's about to happen here?’ and that’s when Percy showed up,” Lit finished over Zephyros’s giggles. Calypso had her head in her hands. 

Zephyros squeezed him tightly and assured him, “you can naked wrestle with whoever you want, Lityerses. No need to explain to me.” Lit heard the broad, twinkling grin in his voice.

He snorted too, and shook his head, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That leaves Piper and Annabeth,” Calypso said in an obvious attempt to put Leo’s misbehavior out of her mind.

“Annabeth Chase is a work of art,” Zephyros stated matter-of-factly, “She’s strong, intelligent, capable, and beautiful.”

“You’re scared of her, aren’t you?” She needled him.

“I can be sacred and impressed at the same time.”

“That doesn’t bode well for me,” Lit said levelly, “I’m, like, one of those things.” He didn’t feel any possessiveness over his boyfriend, or jealousy at his praise of Annabeth. She and Percy were like peas in the cutest pod ever grown. But it did remind him of his many, many failings. He supposed he should be thankful he had never been a hero. What an absolute disaster that would have been.

“Don’t worry,” Zephyros whispered to him, “you have certain attractions that Annabeth Chase never will.” Lit felt a blush creep into his cheeks again.

“And Lit’s scared of Piper. You two are useless,” Calypso shook her head in mock disapproval.

“I’m not scared of her. I just know she hates me and has good reason to.”

“She’s actually my boss’s sister.” Silence expanded after Zephyros’s statement.

Calypso broke it, “What?”

“Eros is a son of Aphrodite. Just a fully immortal one,” He sounded resigned, the way he had before when talking about his master. Lit had his own reasons for wanting to deck Eros, but the slump in his boyfriend’s shoulders and the subtle dip in his voice just reinforced them. He rested his head on Zephyros’s shoulder, hoping the contact might be reassuring. The god's hand slid up from his waist to ruffle his hair. Lit thought he felt a small smile tweak Zephyros’s lips.

Calypso looked them over, “You two may be useless, but at least you're cute.” She stood. “I have… things to discuss with a certain son of Hephaestus. Try not to die of fear while I’m gone.”

“You're scary, too! No need to be jealous of the other girls!” Lit called after her. She made a rude gesture at him without looking back.

“You love her a lot, don’t you?” Zephyros asked.

“I- I owe a lot of my new life to her.” Lit hadn’t thought about the feelings attached to their relationship, but as he watched her figure stalking across the hall toward Leo and Hazel he recognized the warmth in his chest. It was the same way he felt cradling the gryphon cub or pressing soil around the moonlaces. And it was very similar to how he felt tucked under Zephyros’s wing, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

He straightened. “Yeah I guess I do, but don’t worry-”

“I know exactly what my attractions are,” Zephyros cut him off with a sultry tone that made Lit flush from his belt to his hairline.

“How do you do that?” he grumbled, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment. 

Zephyros deftly tucked Lit’s hair behind his ear and leaned in to slip a kiss onto his neck before answering, still in that sultry voice, “Millennia of practice.”

Lit dodged away from him, “Stop that.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but that was how the words came out. Zephyros withdrew and Lit winced at how harshly he had rebuffed him.

“What’s wrong?” concern radiated from the god. Lit could feel it without even looking at him. “Please sit up, Lityerses. I won’t touch you.” He didn’t want to sit. He wanted to move. He got up, careful not to step on any feathers.

“Not here. Where everyone can see,” His words were still coming out unnecessarily curt. He tried to settle his nerves and his voice, “Can we talk somewhere else?” To his relief, Zephyros stood. They walked in silence, Lit trying to manage his emotions, Zephyros still radiating concern. Finally they reached the practice range. Several dummies had recently been battered but it was otherwise empty. Not having his words together all the way, Lit set about arranging the dummies for drills. Damn him, Zephyros helped. He didn’t even seem that upset. Was Lit always going to be the only one losing his mind? Finally he clattered to a stop.

“I don’t want everyone to see,” He said to his hands. Now his voice came too softly. He worried Zephyros wouldn’t hear. He needn’t have. The god’s long-fingered brown hands clasped Lit’s own, appearing as if from the breeze. They were too close in height for Lit to safely look up.

“Why not?”

Lit swallowed thickly. Gods damn his treacherous body. First the blushing, now the tears. Was he allowed any dignity? “Everyone knew before I did. About us. Even without knowing about you. Everyone decided for me. As if it wasn’t my choice to make.”

“And you still chose me.”

“I want you. But it has been millennia-” his voice cracked. He squeezed his eyes shut as the urge to look into the god’s face swept over him. Two horrible, traitorous tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed on his hands. “I don’t even remember my first life-” again he stopped, hands clenching and unclenching between his boyfriend’s.

“And you don’t want to have to rediscover… this… publicly, where you have little control, and face everyone’s assumptions,” Zephyros spoke gently, and it was enough to shatter Lit completely. He nodded, then buried his face in his hands, His shoulders shook and his chest heaved as he fought to keep the pieces of his composure. Gentle hands clasped his shoulders.

“You’re right, Lityerses. Of course you’re right. You deserve that control over your own life,” He paused, then asked, “May I hold you?” Lit nodded again, still fighting for his composure. He felt Zephyros’s arms slide around him, then his wings cocoon them together.

“You’re safe here.” He whispered. Lit nestled his face in the god’s shoulder, letting his arms fall to wrap around his waist. A single sob escaped his throat. Zephyros rested a hand in his hair, gently cradling his head. They stood that way for some time.

“I’m sorry, Lityerses, for my carelessness, and for pushing you too far.”

“Thank you.” Lit’s voice was unexpectedly steady. He straightened, taking a deep breath to collect himself. “I want to train for a while. You can stay and watch if you like.”

“I’d like that very much,” The cocoon unfurled, but before Zephyros stepped away, Lit caught him by the shoulders. He slid his hands up as he had before, and drew his boyfriend in for a gentle, lingering kiss before turning away.

Training felt good. Exerting himself, focusing his whole mind and body on one thing, and letting every other worry or fret fall away; striking, advancing, resetting and parrying his way through a world that contained only himself, the next dummy, and the moonlace he had set on the tallest dummy he could find. He reveled in it. The small muscles that had faded so quickly still burned with fatigue. His breath still tore from his lungs more sharply than it used to. But he didn’t lose himself the way he had before. The reaper didn’t come for him. And he kept his footing instead of immediately collapsing like the last time. That was progress. It was also fortunate as it seemed his audience had grown. Nico was sitting next to Zephyros, holding a sandwich. Percy was sitting next to Nico, wiping his hands on a napkin with an air of having recently scarfed down lunch.

“That’s pretty cool!” He said around his last mouthful, “but you have no defense.”

“That’s what Jason said, too,” Nico added.

“Jason kicked my ass. I guess he’d know,” Lit said without rancor. He knew there were gaps in his skill that couldn’t just be chalked up to sons of Zeus always being great. Unfortunately, he hadn’t come across anyone who could fill those gaps. Jason might have been able to, if he hadn’t been killed. Meg probably could, but she spent all her time in New York and likely wasn't an enthusiastic teacher anyways.

“Here,” a sword had appeared in Percy’s hands, as if from nowhere, “I can show you a few things.”

“Slow down, you just ate.”

“He’ll be fine!” Nico heckled, “I’ve seen him eat three sandwiches and go toe-to-toe with Ares’s eldest daughter.”

Percy turned out to be a great teacher. His easy going manner, constant encouragement, and complete honesty made for clear, enjoyable instruction. His skill with a sword and innate competitiveness spurred Lit to meet his challenge and succeed. It also turned out that fighting seemed to be a social activity for the son of Poseidon.

“Oh my god,” He whispered, halfway through a slow demonstration of a disarm, “Zephyros just tucked Nico under his wing like a mother hen. That’s so precious, look.”

“I can’t look, what if I catch his eye and he poofs into the wind?”

“Look now while he’s not facing you.” Lit sneaked a glance. Sure enough, his boyfriend sat on the bench, looking towards the door, with the son of Hades tucked under his wing like a disgruntled chick.

Lit stifled a chuckle. “Nico doesn’t seem happy about it.” They reset, and it was Lits turn to try the disarm.

“No, that’s just his face. If he didn’t want to be there, he wouldn’t be,” Percy assured him, still in a whisper. Lit succeeded at the disarm and allowed himself a small laugh.

“Hey! Tall, dark, and handsome!” called a girl’s voice from the bench.

“That’s literally all four of us!” Percy called back. 

It was Annabeth. She paused to consider for a second, “Gods, you’re right. Even Frank and Leo have black hair.”

“Leo isn’t handsome, though. And I'm not that tall,” Nico supplied.

Lit’s eyebrows knit. “I don’t have black hair. I have brown hair.” Thankfully, only Percy heard him.

“Dude, your hair is almost as black as mine. Haven’t you looked in a mirror?” 

Lit stared blankly at him. He honestly could not remember the last time he had. He tried to summon an image of his own face, but came up empty-handed. “I have no idea what I look like.” He said aloud. 

Percy’s incredulous laugh caught Annabeth’s attention again, “I meant you, seaweed brain! Get over here!” Percy shot him a final crooked grin before jogging over to them, his sword mysteriously gone from his hand. Lit followed more slowly, feeling his body protest at still being upright.

“- you too, Nico,” Annabeth was saying, “both head counselors should be there.”

“I’ll be there in a minute. Will can fill me in if I miss anything,” he replied. Percy and Annabeth left, and Nico turned his dark grey eyes onto Lit. “You dream really loudly,” he said without preamble, “I can help if you want.”

“You can-” Lit shivered. Was every part of his life going to be on display now?

“It’s called dreamwalking,” The son of Hades described, from an outsider’s view, the last encounter Lit had had with the reaper, “you weren’t still inhabiting the dream, but it was strong enough to echo. Dreams like that… they don’t precede a walk in the park.”

Lit nodded. He already knew dealing with the reaper wasn’t going to be fun.

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” Nico’s mouth twitched into a half smile as he stood and followed Percy and Annabeth, leaving Lit alone with Zephyros again.

“I see you two have reconciled,” Lit finally let his legs buckle and plopped down beside his boyfriend.

“He’s a sweet boy. Once you get past the surly asshole.”

“I can’t exactly fault anyone for being a surly asshole.”

“You can be sweet, too. If only to plants and baby gryphons,” Zephyros nudged him with a shoulder again.

“I’m working on it.”

“Work on your sense of humor, too.”

“I’ll add it to the list. Anything else?”

“Stretches. I want to see how you bend,” The sultry tone was back, but there was a lightness to it. Zephyros was giving him the choice of flirtation or teasing. He stood, pulled off his shirt and wiped his face with it, then tossed it aside. Flirtation, he decided, and slid easily into a fluid, graceful exercise that combined cooldown and stretches and that he knew would be a display worthy of a god’s audience. He knew exactly what his body looked like - he didn't need a mirror to map the scars across his skin or mark the way they sliced through the dark hair on his limbs and torso. He had worked hard to get his muscle, even if he didn’t remember doing so, and he had worked hard to keep it. Only the places he couldn't see remained a mystery - his back and, more disturbingly, his own face.

Once again he felt like pudding. To him it was a sign of a good training session. He resisted the urge to melt onto the floor until he made his way back over to where Zephyros sat. When he sank to the ground at his boyfriend’s feet he heard a satisfied chuckle.

“It seems you do know something about flirting. Have you been holding out on me, Lityerses?”

“Just playing to my strengths,” he let his head fall back onto the god’s knee, careful to keep his eyes closed, despite facing mostly away. Zephyros’s hands, usually so warm, felt cool against his still-heated skin as he brushed Lit’s hair out of his face.

“Do you really not know what you look like?”

“Not a clue,” no point asking how he had heard. Gods had their ways. “I know now that my hair looks black to everyone else, and I assume my face is as scarred as the rest of me, but I don’t know what it looks like.” His fingers found a particularly long scar that started below his collarbone and traced it up the side of his neck to where it ended on his cheek. It was odd to think that, of the full length of it, he could only see maybe a quarter. Was that the cut that had killed him? Zephyros’s fingertips followed his, pausing as they passed close to where his pulse beat in his neck. It occurred to Lit that Zephyros might know how he had gotten it. He wasn’t sure he himself wanted to, even if he could find out. With an effort, he put it out of his mind. Zephyros’s hands felt warm again as they brushed against his face. They smoothed away the creases in his brow, somehow also smoothing the thoughts that tangled underneath.

“You should eat.”

“I need to shower first," Lit didn’t move. He wanted to bask in this stillness a little longer, savor the time before his thoughts raced and tangled themselves again.

“I heard Piper McLean saying she’d like to get in some blow dart practice. Do you really want to be here when she does?” Lit swore under his breath. Staying out of Piper’s way overruled his current tranquility. He didn’t want to spend half of his rest day recovering from whatever poison her darts were treated with.

Lit was showered, dressed, and halfway to the kitchen before he remembered that he had meant to look in a mirror in the bathroom. He must have spaced out from the routine of it and forgotten. Now was not the time to pick at that knot. He didn’t want to unravel again today if he could help it.

On the kitchen counter sat a fat, tasty looking sandwich with a single moonlace petal on top. Calypso caught his eye from across the room and smirked knowingly. Lit blushed. Her snickers followed him as he fled to the roof, plate in hand.

“I could have made it myself,” he reproached before digging in.

Zephyros sounded smug, “but you couldn’t stop me.” The sandwich was every bit as tasty as it looked.

“You’re disrupting my routine,” he grumbled, reluctant to let go of the thread, “I always make myself lunch on free days.”

“You just don’t like when I‘m nice to-” Zephyros sucked in a breath, “You don't, do you? I was kidding, but you really don’t like it.”

“Does it matter?” Lit asked around a mouthful.

“Well I’m not going to stop, but I’d like to know why.”

Lit shook his head. “Nope, not today. One revelation is all you’re getting." He really, really didn’t want to unravel again. Thankfully, Zephyros let it go.

The rest of the day he spent reading, flopped on a couch in the main hall while the waystation hummed and bustled around him. ‘You have quite a life here.’ Zephyros had told him. If it hadn’t been true then, it certainly was by now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins >:3c

Lit retired soon after dinner. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel welcome among the heroes, who made room for anybody who wanted to join their circle. He just couldn’t shake the sense of impending doom hovering over his head. He had new friends who all seemed to want to help him, a new boyfriend who was not only incredibly hot but also a literal god, and new, fresh, hellish ways for everything to go wrong. The higher he flew, the farther he would have to fall - dragged down by the reaper or shot from the sky by Eros.

“You look awful.” Of course Zephyros was already in his room. He was developing a habit of opening the door with his eyes shut. No way that would ever bite him in the ass.

“Weren’t you going to be nice to me?”

“Awful is putting it nicely, Lityerses. You look like you’ve been holding up the sky.” He’d heard Atlas called ‘brutishly handsome’ before. He’d also heard what holding up the sky had done to Percy and Annabeth. As metaphors went it wasn’t the worst. 

Lit sagged onto the bed, propping his elbow on one knee so he could rest his head in hand, “I was content to leave him behind.”

“But you can’t”

“Not only does he follow me, but it's also apparently vitally important to everyone else that I don’t.”

“That’s the part that gets to you.”

“I told you one revelation per day.”

“I’m here for you, Lityerses. What else am I supposed to do if not pry and poke and wheedle?”

“Tell me about you,” Lit was suddenly burning to know. Thousands of years whisking around the planet at the whims of gods and men. What had Zephyros seen? What had he learned? How had he made such a life bearable? “Tell me your stories, Zephyros.” 

The god was silent for a time, then reached out to gather Lit into his arms. “How about the time I nearly caused a war?”

“Only nearly?”

“It was an accident,” they lay side by side on the bed, Lit’s head pillowed on Zephyros’s arm, the god’s free hand gesticulating at the ceiling. Lit laughed as the story wound back and forth between two incompetent kings and Zephyros’s escalating pranks. He spun the tale like a cat’s cradle; hooks and loops and turns all weaving together until, with a flourish, Zephyros pulled them taut, revealing the pattern.

“I found I’m too good at mischief. I try not to do it anymore,” He concluded.

“That’s a shame. I like your style of mischief,” Lit had meant it as an idle compliment, but suddenly the air between them thrummed with electricity. How his boyfriend could just turn that on, Lit still had no clue.

“Do you, now?” Zephyros shifted beside him and ran a finger along his jaw. Lit maintained his upward gaze, acutely aware of how small his bed had suddenly become.

“I do,” his voice didn’t waver, but already it sounded huskier to his ears. The lone finger trailed down his neck and wound a looping path across his chest.

“Hmm, I may have to make some more, then,” Zephyros’s lips brushed Lit’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. The finger continued its looping path over Lit’s shirt, winding lower down his front even as Zephyros’s mouth drew closer to his. He gave in, shut his eyes, and turned. Lit didn’t make the mistake this time of thinking he could be prepared, It was still too new, too unfamiliar, too overpowering. But he couldn’t let it go on. Not tonight.

“I have an appointment,” he mumbled, hands stilling against his boyfriend’s body.

“Can you go back to questions, please?”

“I wish I didn’t. I - I’m dreading it,” he buried his face in Zephyros’s shoulder. 

The god sighed and wrapped Lit in a warm, bracing hug. “Lityerses, do you want to know what you look like?” Lit shook his head a fraction. Something told him that knowing had to do with his past and his hidden memories. As much as he longed to be done with it, he just couldn’t bring himself to face it. Zephyros paused, then continued anyways, “You look unstoppable.” He spoke as if it was divine truth, indisputable, absolute. Lit couldn’t imagine doubting him. Courage blossomed in his chest. He risked a final, soft kiss in thanks before turning over and trying to sleep. His brain still buzzed and anxiety threatened to pierce through his calm again, but the easy tranquility of Zephyros’s breathing and the warm security of his body beside Lit lulled him to sleep soon enough.

The reaper was not waiting for him, but Nico DiAngelo was. The teen stood in the middle of the roof garden, surveying rows and rows of beds of withered plants.

“I asked Clovis,” He didn't face Lit to address him, “he told me that dreams can gain power from a number of sources, but the most powerful always come from memory.”

“Who’s Clovis?”

“Eldest son of Hypnos,” finally Nico turned. His pale face and scratchy voice were a relief in a dreamscape haunted by Lit’s faceless past and his own voice in his head.

“Unfortunately I don’t remember much of my past. I can’t say for sure if these are memories.”

“Have you ever dragged a captive in chains? No offense, but that seems pretty on brand for you.” Lit was halfway through a shrug when the memory fell on him like a meteor strike. His old employer, Commodus, had sent men to find him after the disaster at his father’s mansion. They had chained him before dipping him in the river, and Lit had awoken en-route to Indianapolis. The chains were just barely too loose, and he had slipped them and killed every last one of the men before walking into the compound alone.

“I was the one in chains,” he paused to collect himself, “You saw that, too?”

“I had to look hard for it. It was very faint, but still echoing.”

“So if the reaper is standing in for me in these memories-”

“You want one where you were beaten,” Nico said grimly.

“Can I make that happen?”

“I think I can. I can at least nudge you in the right direction. But there’s something else happening here, can’t you hear it?” Lit listened. Sure enough, two indistinct voices crept into the edge of his hearing. One, he realized with a flutter in his stomach, was Zephyros. The other was unfamiliar.

“Let’s go see,” Nico turned and began walking, “You can explain your memory to me on the way.” Lit explained his account of the fight with Jason. Nico had of course already heard it from Jason’s side, but it was Lit’s memory they needed. They paused at the entrance to a hallway. With a start, Lit realized it was the one where his room was located. The two voices were clearer now. He didn’t need to approach to know where they were coming from.

“Wait,” Nico hissed. He seemed, if possible, to go even paler, “I know that voice.” Lit raised his eyebrows. “Eros,” he spat the name like a curse, and Lit remembered what Zephyros had said.

“He tried to kill you.”

“Worse. That-” Nico used an epithet that Lit wasn’t familiar with but immediately committed to memory “-outed me. To Jason Grace of all people.” At first Lit wasn’t sure if that was worse than attempted murder, but then he remembered the shame and helplessness of hearing Leo casually toss out the words ‘rumor has it’ in front of Piper and Calypso, and Frank’s cavalier ‘just how we lived for a while.’ From what he had heard of Jason, the guy would have been just as kind as Percy about it, which - for surly assholes like Lit and Nico - tended to make things feel even worse.

“Yeah, he’s a dick.” 

Some visceral instinct told him that opening his bedroom door would be the worst possible thing to do. Nico seemed to feel it, too. The two of them lurked in the hallway, and Lit tried not to feel like he was eavesdropping in his own dream.

“-upset because it isn’t going how you wanted it to,” Zephyros was saying, his voice tight, but defiant.

Eros’s reply rolled, deep and velvety, through Lit’s mind, “I’ve seen you maddened before and I will see it again, by the fates. Do not forget who you belong to.”

“I haven’t forgotten for millennia. Millennia of being satisfied with your leavings; the crumbs it pleases you to let me have between schemes. I will not forget now, when it is your plan that has brought me to this joy. And I will not forget when you wrench it from my grasp and you finally have the madness you desire. I will not - even then,” Zephyros’s voice had become muted, resigned. Lit could almost see the slump of his shoulders, the way his wings would dip and fold in as he bowed his head. Overwhelming desire to go to him, to hold him and offer comfort and stand in defiance of Eros warred with his instinct to stay on this side of the door. Nico grabbed his sleeve as he took an involuntary step forward. Lit glanced back at him. If humans had hackles, Nico's would have been up. His teeth were bared in a grimace, and his posture set for a fight.

“Your days are numbered,” hissed Eros, his voice soft and somehow jagged at once. Without warning, the dream shifted. The two of them stood, Nico still with a fistful of Lit’s shirt, in a ruined city. The ancient stonework had been scarred by fires and gashed open in places. One chrysanthemum pattern on the ground looked suspiciously like a lightning strike.

Nico’s eyes went wide. “Dalmatia.” He looked like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“You’ve been here?”

“This is where I met Eros,” He swore. “This was not supposed to happen.

“Memory.”

Nico nodded. He set his jaw and stood up straighter, as if preparing to deal with something unpleasant. Then his eyes flicked to a spot behind Lit. “Go time.” In a flash he had drawn his sword and tossed it to Lit, who found himself gripping a stygian spear. Oh.  _ Go time _ .

Lit spun to face the reaper just as the attack began. Facing Jason, he had moved like lightning, aggressive and relentless. He remembered the savage satisfaction he had felt watching the boy barely keep up under his onslaught. They had traded barbs as they sparred. This time nobody spoke. Percy’s defense snapped through his mind, shifting effortlessly from nerve to muscle, and in seconds it was over. When the opening came Lit planted his feet, turned from the hips, and slammed the end of his spear into the reaper’s chest. With no throne to catch him, his adversary flew backwards, fell, and rolled across the ground. He didn’t get up. Lit approached warily. He crouched beside the crumpled form, unsure what to do with his victory.

“Do it,” hissed his voice, “end it.” The same instinct that had warned him not to open the door stayed his hand again.

“I can’t get rid of you, you jackass. I just want you to stop trying to murder me.” The reaper remained silent and prone. Nico’s hand fell on Lit’s shoulder and he awoke, heart still pounding from the fight, alone in his bed.

Where was Zephyros? Was he alright? Had Eros kept him from returning to Lit? The door swung open, revealing his boyfriend, silhouetted by the hallway lights. Sure enough, his head was bowed, his shoulders slumped, and his wings folded in tight to his body. Lit was out of bed before even thinking. His room was small, and two rapid strides saw him close enough to wrap Zephyros in a tight, fierce embrace.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

“Lit, I don’t know if I should stay.” Lit could feel the arrow sinking between his ribs, the sickening turn of his stomach as he began to plummet.  _ The higher he flew- _ he wanted to clutch at Zephyros’s shirt, to beg and plead and promise whatever he asked as long as he would stay. He didn’t - he wouldn’t - that was not who he needed to be tonight.

“Because Eros wants to drive you mad?”

“No, Lit. He wants to drive  _ us _ mad.” Lit closed the door, blocking the hallway lights and swathing the room in blackness. He heard Zephyros drop onto the edge of the bed, and took the chair facing him - trusting the dark to keep him from catching any glimpses.

“If staying with you will drive me mad, then so be it.” He was not surprised to find that he meant it

“Don’t say that. I’ve lost my mind before. It’s an experience I would wish for no one. Especially not you.”

“Three more days. Please.”

“Lit-”

“I will be whole again. One day with you, and my true self. Let me have that, at least.” He was beginning to slip, to beg. His mind seemed to partition itself, one side trembling with panic, the other already bereft, but composed. When had he stopped considering himself whole, that side wondered. He didn’t know, but he was suddenly certain that the sucking hollowness beneath his ribs would never be filled by companionship alone. That sense of bereavement was not new. It had survived beyond Zephyros’s arrival, and whether the god stayed or left, Lit would still have to heal. Now it was a matter of the number of wounds to tend.

“Alright.” Dread and desperation receded at that one whispered word, replaced with calm. The pilot light of his brain expected the same trembling weakness to consume him as it had so many times recently, but was once again disappointed. Lit’s world narrowed to the slight lift of Zephyros’s wings, the tension bleeding from his dark form, and his own hands once again running through those soft, glossy curls, and he knew purpose. It was a small purpose, compared to everything else, but Olympus itself would not keep him from it. Leaving his chair behind, he tilted the face of the west wind and pressed his lips to Zephyros’s. Hands clutched at his shirt, drawing him down to kneel before the bed. In that moment, as his knees hit the floor and his breath mingled with a god’s, Lit had everything he wanted.

“Shall I repay a favor?” he asked, only a little breathless.

He could hear the smile in Zephyros’s voice as he replied, “So the questions are back. And such a pleasing one at that.”

“That’s not an answer.” He slid his hands from shoulders to waist, then thighs, marvelling at how perfectly that body fit into his palms. Had he really never done this before? Never appreciated the hard planes of muscle and soft curves of his boyfriend’s earthly form? He had been inexcusably remiss in his attentions.

“Mmm yes please.” Zephyros’s clothes dissolved beneath Lit’s hands.

He laughed in surprise, “Hey! I was looking forward to that!”

“Believe me, Lit. You do not want to wrestle a T-shirt over the wings.” At least he had a face full of bare chest and two hands full of bare leg. He made the most of it, finally understanding why his boyfriend had taken his own sweet time at this same occupation. He would learn every inch of this body, memorize the way muscle shifted and rippled beneath soft, smooth skin and how soft sighs gave way to gentle moans of pleasure. His wandering hands found their prize even as his mouth lingered in other places, and the shiver that shot through Zephyros echoed in his own body. He sucked in a breath and smiled against the taut line of the god’s throat, reveling in his obvious desire. To be wanted like this - to make contact and feel the hunger in each response, to be both the fan to the flames and the balm to their burn - it was intoxicating. Though he had little experience in living memory, some part of him knew to stay above the heady cocktail of pleasure and control and guided him forward. He waited as long as he could until his mind and body clamored in unison to  _ taste _ . Slowly, luxuriously, he did. The friction on his lips, the weight on his tongue, the thrumming of Zephyros’s body transported him and he could only think of continuing, of serving until his love was satisfied.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Zephyros was still mostly melted, flopped crosswise on the bed, but seemed to be gaining coherence.

“I take it that was good then?” 

“False modesty is unbecoming.”

“Did you mean to destroy my room?” it was an exaggeration. Lit’s room was too sparsely furnished to really be made a mess, but his books had been thrown to the floor and his chair knocked over. The desk may have even shifted a few inches in the tempest that had been unleashed.

“I’ll put it back if you come hold me.” Who was Lit to deny a favor to the west wind? He scooped Zephyros up, careful of the feathers, and plopped him right-way-round on the bed, then changed his jeans for pajama pants and nestled down beside him. As always with his angel next to him, he was asleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what Nico called Eros, but I know it was Bad™


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It Ends <3

“Hm. Not as powerful as I was hoping,” Piper pursed her lips.

“It’s probably because of the secret boyfriend.” Leo insisted on saying ‘secret boyfriend’ even though he and Zephyros had spoken several times.

“Styx, Leo can you knock that off?” Nico smacked Padre on the back of the head.

“He’s got a point, even if he is an ass. Charmspeak works better when there’s some attraction. And when the subject doesn’t know its charmspeak.” She was still regarding Lit through narrowed eyes, as if trying to size up what she could get for him at auction. He didn’t know whether he should say she was beautiful or not. She was, but there was a good chance she’d hit him for it. Behind her, Annabeth fidgeted with her fingernails, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“I only kept my control by a thread. It could still be worth having on hand.” He didn’t mention her looks. Courage would only carry him so far. Insanity wasn’t putting in the effort just yet. They were congregated in the bathroom, where Nico had found Lit just before dawn, trying to plan for every possible outcome and working his brain into a useless tangle. Nico had called in Piper, despite Lit’s protestations, citing her powers of control and misdirection. Piper had brought Annabeth because the world was unfair and Lit was not allowed to do anything in private. Leo had just turned up for no reason. Lit was grateful for their help, of course, but he was acutely aware of the possibility of every one of them ending up dead if today went badly. Maybe that was how they lived, but he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect.

“Lit, go look in the mirror.” Piper’s voice washed over him and he turned to look without even thinking. The rest of the world fell away as he locked eyes with his own reflection. Vaguely, in the background, he heard the other demigods arguing.

“What the hell did you do that for?”

“I actually expected it to fail again.”

“He was stalling and you know it.”

“No turning back. Now we just wait.”

Lit saw his own face. He had been right in his assumption that it was just as sliced up as the rest of him. Scars tangled across his cheeks and brow, interrupting his eyebrows in several places and even taking a chunk out of the bridge of his nose. He supposed he had been handsome once. Or maybe he had started collecting these cuts too early to know. The long gash that he had traced up his neck the previous day looked fresher than the rest. In the mirror, his lip curled into a sneer. That was the face of his past. All his anger and contempt, his failures, and his murders - they were all there, in that single, hateful expression.

“Do you still think you’ll survive?” Lit couldn’t tell if he spoke to himself or imagined the way the reaper’s mouth moved.

“Yes. So will you,” He bit back an insulting name. Not the time.

“I am older than you. I am stronger than you. I have killed worse men than you. You can’t possibly stop me.” Memories began to bleed back into his head, appearing as if through a fog. He could feel them weighing him down.

“You. Are. Me.” He gritted. Styx, had he always been this self-aggrandizing? Tack that on to the list of his worst features.

“You’re the weakest part of me. I will be free of you.”

“And what, just never have fun? I’ve been you. It was awful. We can be better.”

“We? Did you miss the part where you won’t survive?”

“You’re so obsessed with death. Did you miss the part where we died already? It loses its novelty pretty quickly.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“You won’t have t- are you even listening to me?”

“No.”

“Jackass.”

“Weakling.”

“Aren’t you even a little bit curious?” Lit’s reflection was trembling, his eyes bloodshot. “Don’t you want to experience something good for once?” Pain, like the worst migraine Lit had ever had, radiated from his head down his spinal column. The slow trickle had become something sharper, more insistent. It was getting harder to focus.

“You can’t offer me anything.”

“They can. Emmie, Jo, Zephyros, Calypso. Everyone here. That’s the point. Its so fucking difficult being the only one holding up our sins. But they help. They take some of the burden. All we have to do is peel vegetables and keep them safe.”

“You’re beholden to people even weaker than you-”

“Quit thinking like a mercenary. We can drop the calculating, the petty grudges and debts and nonsense. We can be free of it, use our mind for better things.”

His reflection swayed in place. Or was the bathroom tilting around him?

“Why, then? Why would I?” The words were slurred and slow.

“Because. You’re safe here,” Lit whispered. Then he collapsed. He felt as if his skull was shattering, blasted apart by repeated meteor strikes of memory. The dam had burst. All he could do was lie on the floor and retch. At least he wasn’t killing his friends. He felt someone lifting him before he blacked out completely.

“-temperature has come down significantly. He may still be out of commission for a while, but he’s looking a lot better than yesterday,” a soft male voice was speaking somewhere to his left.

“Is there anything we can do?” a woman now, speaking softly as well, worry in her voice.

“Let him rest. His physical problems are a manifestation of massive mental trauma. His mind has to settle before his body can recover.” Lit wanted to ask if they were talking about him, but all he managed was a weak cough. Footsteps approached, and the male voice spoke, much closer now, “he might be coming around. Give us a moment.” Lit faded again.

A new voice now wove through his dreams. No, not new. He knew that voice, knew the speaker. If he could only figure out the words. It sounded like a story - a good one, full of fools and mischief and questionable justice. The rhythms and cadences of the telling rose and fell around him as he walked through a gleaming city, bustling with life. Before him stood a set of massive doors, propped open and shining like beacons. He walked through. The hearth of Olympus blazed brightly, tended by a young girl with eyes that burned like the fire. Beyond, the twelve Olympians convened. They sat in their massive thrones, glaring down at two kneeling figures. Despite their imposing statures and universally thunderous expressions, each looked somewhat the worse for wear. Lit noted several black eyes, one divine splint, two separate bandages, and countless scrapes and bruises. 

“Eros,” thundered Zeus, “what have you wrought.”

“My lord, this was not my bidding.”

“Your servant, your responsibility,” growled Poseidon.

“If you cannot keep a handle on him, you should not have bound him,” Athena, looking marginally better than any of the other gods, spoke with cold precision.

“My son, this is what comes of your scheming and toying. You sought to break him. Now he is broken. And look what it has gained you,” Aphrodite’s voice was gentle, like a parent explaining to a young child that when they hit their friends, their friends would be hurt. Lit focused on the two kneeling before the council. One was indeed Eros, wrists chained behind his back, face raised in frantic supplication. The other was Zephyros, unbound but tightened like a wire close to snapping. He trembled in place and periodically shook his head. Lit’s stomach dropped. So he had gone mad after all. Lit walked like a wraith through the dream as the Olympians continued to argue and Eros continued to plead, until he could stand before his love and look into his face. 

“Zephyros,” Hephaestus spoke, not unkindly, “several of our children have pled on your behalf for leniency. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Zephyros did not address him in response. Instead he looked straight at Demeter and rasped, in the frayed remains of his sweet voice, “Every living thing deserves a chance to grow.” As he returned his gaze to the floor in front of him, Lit caught a glimpse of golden eyes. Though rimmed with shadows of exhaustion, they were alight and alive with anticipation - and completely lucid.

Lit awoke. His head felt stuffed with cotton. His back ached. One shoulder was definitely tender. He had probably fallen on it when he collapsed. He mumbled a curse to himself. After a few seconds a blond head floated into his field of view.

“Hey. Gonna stick around this time?”

“Maybe?” Lit’s voice was hoarse with disuse, “I’ve probably slept enough, right?”

“About thirty hours. You started keeping nectar down around six hours ago, and your progress has improved a lot since then.”

“Yeah that’s probably enough sleep,” He tried to sit up. 

Will helped him, and held him steady as he got his bearings, “I’ll get you some water if you promise not to try to stand up while I do. Nectar is great for healing, but weirdly bad at hydrating.” Lit nodded, suddenly acutely aware of how dry his throat was. A tentative knock sounded at the infirmary door. Will opened it to a very worried Emmie and Jo. They spotted Lit sitting up behind him and both broke into smiles of relief. He allowed them in and they engulfed Lit in a warm, grandmotherly hug.

“You gave us quite a scare, son,” Jo said, still holding his shoulder as if worried he might fall again.

“I’m sorry, I-”

Emmie cut him off, “you don’t need to apologize. Just rest and get better. We’re glad you’re okay.” Will reappeared with water for Lit and instructions to sip slowly. Lit had never tasted anything so sweet. A pointed glare from the healer kept him to his word and he refrained from gulping the whole glass at once.

“What happened?” Jo asked, “the others couldn’t really tell us.”

“I tried to face my past. But it was too awful. I think it nearly killed me.”

Emmie smiled warmly at him. “I told you you were more than the reaper.”

“You did. Thank you for believing in me.” he gave her a small smile in return, already tired from the effort of sitting up and speaking.

Jo squeezed his shoulder. “Keep resting. We’ll tell the others you're okay.” They hugged him again and left. 

Will piled a few pillows behind him and helped him scoot back so he could relax. “They all came while you were out. I nearly had to sedate Piper. She felt so bad about forcing you to look.”

Lit snorted. It made his head throb. “I don’t know if I could have done it without her.”

“Leo will be making jokes about collapsing at the sight of your own face for the rest of your life. Or his. Whichever is shorter. He’s already started.”

“I guess that’s to be expected.” He wanted to ask. He couldn’t. His throat closed over the words as he tried. Will noticed.

“He was here - Zephyros - He’s been gone from the waystation since you’ve been out. But he showed up long enough to tell you some kind of story. That was just before you started keeping the nectar down.” Lit nodded his thanks, throat still dangerously full of emotion. He set down his water and rested his head back. Sleep enveloped him again. 

Back on Olympus, the council was dispersing. Eros was freed of his chains and looked murderous. Apollo, on the other hand, looked smug. Demeter gazed into the middle distance, unmoving on her throne. Lit turned and faced out of the massive doors, searching the city. A glimpse of coppery wing vanished around a corner. Lit followed. Around buildings, through gardens, and down side alleys, until he found Zephyros in a small courtyard hemmed in by tall shrines and statuary.

“I’ll be there soon,” his voice was light and smooth again, his posture relaxed. Though he faced away from Lit, he radiated joy.

“Can I see you before you go?”

“And ruin the surprise? You know me better than that.”

“Don’t be too long,” Lit found himself smiling.

“I won’t. I promise. Now rest,” Zephyros vanished into the wind and Lit’s dream dissolved around him, leaving him to sleep in peace.

It did not take long for Lit to get very, very tired of people reminding him to rest. Will Solace, a saint in jeans and a scrub top, insisted on limiting visitors to a few minutes each and two at a time. He kept to a strict schedule of small doses of nectar for Lit - which tasted like cool spring water after a hard day of work - and eventually let Calypso bring them both some stew. The three of them were chatting and enjoying their food when Nico sidled in and whispered something in Will’s ear. The healer frowned and the two of them moved away to have a full whispered discussion complete with several flurries of hand movement.

“I never asked how they got me here,” Lit realized aloud. Distance was never a given in the waystation, but he was relatively sure that the bathroom he frequented was not usually close to the infirmary.

“Frank carried you,” Calypso said nonchalantly. Lit choked on a mouthful of stew. Will looked over sharply and Lit waved him off, trying to splutter more quietly. “You threw up on him, too,” she added.

“Zeus’s pants-”

“No, I think they were Frank’s,” she snickered.

“I’m going to hit you and then we’ll both be in trouble.”

“Anyways, Leo said he showed up just before you collapsed. They were trying to explain what was going on and down you went. He just scooped you up and carried you here.”

“Well I guess that’s less embarrassing than the four of them trying to teamwork it. It would take at least three.”

“Annabeth and Piper could do it. Nico and Leo would need help for sure.”

“Oh right, Annabeth held up the sky. I probably weigh less than the sky.”

“Perhaps.” They were interrupted by the return of Nico and Will, who seemed to have reached an agreement. Nico took their empty bowls and vanished without another word.

“Ready to try getting up?” Will asked. Lit took a quick inventory. Still tired and sore, but no longer completely drained and restless enough to ignore it anyways.

“Yeah. Wait. Am I wearing pants?” He hadn’t checked.

Will chuckled. “I’ll help you with those.” Calypso smirked and left to give him some privacy. Lit figured if he had retained any dignity after saying the words ‘naked chicken,’ it had been wiped out by unconsciously vomiting on someone else’s pants, but he appreciated the gesture anyways. Fully dressed and feeling marginally more alive than that morning, Lit walked slowly into the hall. He paused in the doorway, annoyed at how much those couple of steps had tired him already. Nico lurked nearby. Really he was just standing, but he did so with such an air of secrecy all the time that he ended up looking slightly suspicious no matter what.

“Alright. One hour,” Will said to both of them, though Lit had no idea what he was talking about, “and straight back here afterward. And Lit, I know you’re restless but stick within your limits. Doctor’s orders.” Lit nodded his agreement, still unsure what was going on. Nico nodded as well, then gestured to Lit to follow him, a small smile cracking his grim facade. They walked slowly, but Lit paused when he realized where they were headed.

“I don’t think I can handle stairs, Nico.”

“Got it covered, come on.” Sure enough, where the stairs to the roof had been, someone had installed a lift, or perhaps the waystation had changed itself - it did that sometimes, if you asked nicely. The evening was balmy and quiet in the roof garden. Plants rustled gently in the breeze and muted traffic noises floated up from the city below. Lit’s heart thudded in his chest. He wasn’t sure if his legs were weak from fatigue or from relief at seeing the familiar outline of his boyfriend, silhouetted against a sinking sun. Slowly, he made his way over.

“Hello, Lityerses.”

“Hello, Zephyros.”

“You look horrible.”

“You have some explaining to do.” They collapsed into each other as if the roof had buckled between them, or gravity itself had changed directions. Lit buried his face in Zephyros’s shoulder as Zephyros cocooned them with his wings. He held on tightly, letting his fear and hurt and worry fall away.

“You did it then? You faced yourself?”

“And I survived. You - you freed yourself didn’t you?”

Zephyros squeezed him tightly. “Nearly started a war again. This time with complete intention of doing so.”

“Can I see your face now?” Lit asked, unsure whether to hope for an answer. In response, Zephyros unfurled his wings and swept Lit up into a spin. When he set him back on his feet, laughing delightedly, Lit’s back was to the sun. Light bathed the god’s face and set his wings ablaze. His golden eyes held Lit’s and he smiled as if he had never felt such joy in all his six thousand years. Lit felt his own small grin split into a smile nearly as radiant. Warmth flooded him as he drank in the sight of his boyfriend’s face. Finally, he could believe that they were free. Zephyros gathered him close again, and they sat beside the moonlace and talked of small, unrelated things. Lit wasn’t ready to explain completely. Neither, it seemed, was Zephyros. There would be time for that later. For now it was enough to hold hands and laugh together and know that tomorrow would come.


End file.
